The clock shows 1:23. I cannot sleep. Again. It must be the moon. Or the longing for you. Or the thoughts in my head. I am tired. Very much so. And it makes me grumpy. And depressed. I get depressed when I didn’t sleep enough.
You are an insomniac too. And I saw that you are online on WhatsApp. But I can not get in touch right now. I am in one of those moods when I would twist the nicest things you’d say into something bad.
You see, I am not a good person. I am just tired. I want to take you up on an offer you made last week (or the week before), but I don’t know how to do it. It is very difficult for me to ask for help, to admit that I need help.
Can I sleep next to you? Do you remember that time when you went to take a shower, and I was still on the line? Can we do that with sleeping? Would you sing me to sleep?
During a fight, I once said that I don’t want to end up in one of your songs; the truth is, I want to be in every positive song you’ll ever write. I mean, you are in everything I write too. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but your life is eternal in my poems.
I want to cry. I need a hug and someone to caress my hair, saying that everything will be alright.
Lock your green eyes with mine, and then put your arms around me. I want to fall into you. I want to fall asleep, safe, and home.
These letters are terrible. I am sorry that I make you sound like a bad person. You are not. You are perfect – for me.